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Two students stumble down Main Street one night in the fall of 2018. At the bright lights of the Irving Oil gas station, one collapses, having had too much to drink. Their companion, concerned for their now-unconscious friend’s safety, makes a Good Samaritan call to Safety and Security and carries them to the road in front of Collis.
I’ve never thought much about how art is moved. We can carry small pieces or move them on a cart, but what about the massive ones? Like “Guernica” or “Water Lilies” or “Hovor,” a piece on display in the new Hood Museum of Art? The answer: a massive elevator, one story high, that could fit at least eight normal elevators inside it. This is my first point of contact with the inner workings of the Hood Museum of Art.
Currently, the College’s counseling service sees a quarter of the total student body, according to Mark Reed, the director of the health service. He said that use of Dartmouth’s on-call counseling services has increased by 60 percent over the last six years, and mental health-related admissions to Dick’s House have increased by 45 percent over the same period.
In the days before this year’s Green Key concert, The Dartmouth sat down with Eli Sones, one half of the LA-based DJ group Two Friends, best known for their extensive collection of “Big Bootie” mixes. A Los Angeles native and long-time music lover, Sones began pursuing music seriously while in high school and has continued evolving artistically ever since. Working alongside his childhood bestfriend and fellow DJ-Producer Matthew Halper — the other half of Two Friends — Sones has learned a lot about the importance of connection and cooperation throughout his musical career. Over the course of the interview, Sones shared his insights as a musician who is well-versed in collaboration and creation.
Only 30 years younger than the College, student journalism at Dartmouth has been a stalwart – chronicling institutional change and the College’s interactions with the world.
While Winter Carnival started off wholesomely enough with winter sports, two years after the inception of the event the Dartmouth men soon expressed their interest for the activities to broaden in scope. In 1912, The Dartmouth published an article begging the administration to bring women to campus for the celebratory weekend. The writers claimed that the Carnival “will not succeed without girls. It is up to every man with a purse or a heart or a bit of enthusiasm . . . to make haste to procure that most necessary item. ”
For over one hundred years, Winter Carnival has descended upon Dartmouth around this time. However, recent carnivals have lacked a tradition that was long a carnival mainstay: ski jumping. In 1993, after ski jumping was no longer recognized as an intercollegiate sport, the ski jump tower that had been a prominent feature of the Hanover Country Club golf course was taken down, ending the sport’s slow demise at the College.
Before Robert Trundle ’91 arrived on campus, he already had high expectations for Winter Carnival.
While today’s Winter Carnival typically includes a dip in the icy waters of Occom Pond and an ice sculpture competition, previous Carnivals used to include elaborate figure skating shows and keg-jumps. How did the Carnival evolve through the ages?
What comes to your mind when you think of Dartmouth? The picturesque serenity of the Green, or the joyful tunes resonating from the Baker bell tower every afternoon? Is it the cozy Sanborn couches and the 4 p.m. tea, or maybe the winter chills you feel while roaming through frat row? Regardless of what images come to your mind, there will be one common denominator: all of these images are symbols of the common Dartmouth experience and are linked to Dartmouth’s core values, as mentioned in its mission statement. These values are what have been shaping the community’s experiences for the past 250 years, and despite their monumentality, they push the College toward dynamism and improvement. In this special edition of The Dartmouth, let us cherish these common values with some tales from students, alumni and faculty.
These days, we do a lot of documenting without a lot of remembering. Pictures are taken, social media helps to preserve moments in time, but we rarely look back and think of how far we’ve come. With Dartmouth’s 250th year upon us, we’re now asked to reflect and remember — but remember what exactly?
A recent analysis by the American Historical Association revealed that nationwide, the number of students who pursue an undergraduate degree in history has dropped precipitously in recent years. With only 5.3 history degrees awarded per 1000 students, the discipline is shrinking rapidly with no end in sight. Though the study identified several reasons for the sharp decline, Benjamin M. Schmidt, the analysis’ author, believes that most can be condensed into reduced receptivity to the holistic philosophies of a liberal arts education. Students and parents, he contends, are now looking for a faster and more profitable return on their investment into higher education than ever before.
This year, Dartmouth is celebrating its 250th anniversary. And at first, I thought it had absolutely nothing to do with me.
“Winter Carnival” was a low-budget Hollywood production set at Dartmouth that was released in the summer of 1939. It was an escapist romance movie that included a fleeing heiress, a heartthrob professor, plenty B-reels of ski jumps, ice sculptures and historically accurate newspaper headlines that exclaim “SMOOTH BABES INVADE CAMPUS.”
“From Gurgl and Obergurgl to New Hampshire comes Dr. Wolfgang Schlitz. Touring the White Mountains, he sees Mount Washington, famous for high winds, terrific storms, many climbing tragedies.”
Dartmouth enters a tumultuous time as it celebrates 250 years of world-class instruction this winter. The College grapples with a widespread culture of sexual assault, intense competition for prestige from larger research universities, divisive proposals to expand the student body, beleaguered traditions like the Homecoming bonfire and perennial questions of diversity. History is in the making — these are the times that will determine Dartmouth’s legacy and identity for generations to come.
Art is a medium that contains within it the passage of time. It is something that remains. A piece of art is how it was, how it has been since its creation. It is the same object seen by innumerable different sets of eyes, through myriad ages, and yet still the lift of the artist’s brush flicked up a peak of paint that rose above the canvas. The paint dried in its miniature topography and the action of an instant was preserved through time. Do you remember standing in a museum to view for the first time a famous piece of art that has been reproduced in countless photographs, on postcards, t-shirts and posters? Did you look closer and imagine the artist painting it, stroke by stroke? Did you retrace the line of their brush with your eyes and follow it up to a peak of dried paint?
Dartmouth’s history is a complicated one, and making the official record reflect the experiences of all students is difficult. Yet that is exactly what the Rauner Special Collections Library’s SpeakOut project has set out to do. The oral history endeavor, which Rauner has worked on since 2015 in collaboration with former Dartmouth LGBTQIA+ Alum Association president Brendan Connell Jr. ’87, aims to recording the experiences of LGBTQIA+ alumni. It was recently launched to the public, who can access the audio files digitally.
If you have ever been inside Rauner Special Collections Library, then you have gazed up at the four glass stories towering over that lovely, sun-lit hall, and probably wondered what they contain. Among other incredible things, the stacks at Rauner hold extensive archives from Dartmouth history: letters, memos, photographs and personal narratives from past students and employees of the College.